Art is Dead, Attention Addicts
by AlabasterTemptress
Summary: A hateful teen aged boy plus a hateful teen aged girl is never good, especially when neither of them are well in the head. Philip Shortman and Alice Barker clash in an explosion of spiteful romance, glitter, drama, and...donuts? A fanfic of SuprSingrs fanfic "Life with the Shortmans." Phil/OC T for language
1. Biker Boots

AN: Woah, an authors note before the story starts? How unlike me! Well, as some of you probably don't know, I am a super huge Hey Arnold fan! And have fallen in love with the fic "Life with the Shortmans" by SuprSingr (any HelgaxArnold fan or just a fan in general CHECK DAT SHIT OUT, IT'S GREAT) And I have developed a crush on her melodramatic little ball of hatred and cuteness known as Phil, even though he's 11 (Shhh I'm not a pedo I swear) so she has given me permission to write a fic about him! Because she is a god and a saint. Also if any of you are here expecting Swansong for a Raven stuff, I just updated so don't bug me about it. Anyway!

Phil, Zack, Josh, and Amanda Shortman all belong to SuprSingr, Hey Arnold and all of it's original characters belong to our lord and savior Craig Bartlett, and Alice Barker belongs to moi!

Phil Shortman could not count on his crazy family to be a constant. But for 5 years, since she walked into his 5th grade class, he had gotten one constant. Biker boots.

"Wretched, controlling creatures." He thought to himself. You see, Phil did not like women...at all. He is convinced they are nothing but dominating wenches who wish nothing more than to impose upon the male species.

"Well class, today I'd like to welcome a new student!" There were some hushed whispers, excited giggles, and snickers around him, but he simply rolled his eyes. Just another waste of oxygen, to him. He inwardly groaned as a girl walked in. She was short, with pale skin and black hair swept over her left eye that had a reddish tinge to it. Her eyes were a bright and alert hazel, and she was dressed in a pair of simple light blue pants and a sunset pink t-shirt with a pair of biker boots. Now, that's a first, he thought to himself, as he had only seen biker boots on teenagers and adults. Hmph, the things people will do to be different. "Well would you like to tell the class a little about yourself?" Ms. Parker said, looking down at the little girl with a sweet smile that made Phil want to gag.

"Well, my name's Alice, Alice Barker. I like to listen to music and make costumes. I'm really into theatre, and I was head of prop design and lighting at my old school. I like to cook and draw, too. And, uhm, a word of warning...Don't touch me. Ever." She crossed her arms, staring down at the class, as if daring them to say anything against her.

"Oh, uhm, well, why don't you take that empty seat back there, next to Mr. Shortman."

Phil bristled at the mention of his name, and he locked his green eyes with her single visible hazel one, before she trudged down the aisle and plopped her pink backpack on the floor, hopping into the desk next to his. The fact that he had to deal with another female within a 10 mile radius of him made his blood boil, but he kept a calm face. Hopefully he wouldn't have to deal with her very much, or preferably at all. But his hopes were dashed as soon as he walked into drama class, and there she was, sitting on the stage swinging her legs back and forth. He noticed her boots were way too big for her, and rolled his eyes. Obviously she has no idea how to even buy her own clothes, stupid girl.

"Hey." Phil nearly screamed when he heard her speak to him out of the blue.

"Don't sneak up on me like that, you wretched cur!" He whipped around, glaring at her with all the intensity he could muster. He couldn't even look her in the eyes, as he only had one to focus on.

"I just wanted to say hi, no need to be a huge jerk about it." she sneered, showing the braces he hadn't noticed before.

"Well, I'm feeling generous so I'll just tell you to never speak to me again." Phil crossed his arms.

"Why?" She tilted her head to the side, and he could see the very corner of her mysterious left eye.

"...You're a waste of oxygen and are a completely useless addition to this planet." He deadpanned, stating it as a fact rather than an insult. What she said though, would confuse him for years to come. He had told that to many people before, and they had responded with anger, confusion, sadness, but never...agreement.

"I know." She said it with such a straight face that Phil didn't even know what to think.

"...What?" He made sure to lace his words with a bit of apprehension so he didn't sound like a simple, curious idiot.

"You're not the first person to tell me that. But you're the first to say it as less an insult and more like what it is, a fact. Everyone is a waste of the oxygen on this planet, we do nothing but die in the end. Our lives will all end, but people have convinced themselves that they have a use until then." she shrugged, shoving her hands in her pockets and looking down at her too-big boots. "In 5 billion years, the sun's going to explode anyway...If global warming doesn't kill us all, first. Anyway, nice meeting you, Phil." She smiled brightly at him, before the director called her over to get started on working with the lights for the upcoming play.

For two years, Phil only felt confusion and unadulterated hatred for that girl...and then there was puberty. His hormones were acting up, and Alice wasn't bad to look at, he had to admit that about the brainless wench.

He was 15 now (and had been subconsciously obsessing over Alice for 2 years), turning 16 in November, and very, very frustrated with his life at the moment, but then again, he always was. Therapy sessions over the years had made him less prone to outbursts, but he still outright refused to be touched, and so did Alice. Actually, the last time someone had touched her she almost strangled them with wires and got sent to the principals office. That girl was not well.

"Shortman! I need your help." The grating voice of that she-devil raked in his ears, but Phil complied if only to shut her up.

"What, cur?" He growled with an indifferent face.

"I'm out of safety pins, you're going to have to help me. Hold the fabric up to the dress." She was head of costume design, as well as lighting, and was currently working on the ball gown for their production of Cinderella, which both teenagers agreed was stupid. Phil rolled his eyes and pinched the fabric between his fingers, holding it up to where she pointed to.

Phil was no longer a short, 11 year old boy in a green shirt with fluffy brown hair. He wore a dark grey trench-coat over a green and black striped sweater, with slim black pants and biker boots (an idea which he will never admit to getting from Alice, who had worn the same boots for 4 years and they had just now started fitting her). His hair had gained an extra cowlick right after his older brother Zack had left, making a tiny crown shape on the top of his head, and he had grown his bangs over his left eye (once again, something he had unknowingly gotten from alice.). She bit the end of the string looped into the needle, tying a tiny not before beginning to stitch the fabric onto the dress.

Alice had also changed. Her hair was short and flipped out, but her left eye was always covered, making many people wonder if there was something wrong with it. Phil had heard about a million made-up stories about why she covers up her eye, ranging from it being lost to an angry bear, to her ripping it out herself in an insane mental breakdown, all the way to her being blinded by someone putting sulfuric acid in her contact fluid, which was absurd because she doesn't wear contacts. She wore a red-shirt and black ruffle skirt nowadays, with a very 80's style pale denim vest. There was a white earbud plugged in her ear, that disappeared down her shirt and only resurfaced at the hem of it, leading to an iPod oh so stealthily stuck in the band of her skirt.

But it was always biker boots, every day. He had even seen her once on the beach wearing those boots, though she wasn't doing anything but sitting under an umbrella listening to music and reading a book. It made him wonder if she slept in those old things, too. Actually, she made him wonder about a lot of things. The girl was clearly insane, even his idiot of an older brother could tell when 2 years ago they were walking on the sidewalk and they saw her sitting on top of a street lamp playing the bongos.

Hmph, at least Thanksgiving break will be coming soon enough, along with his birthday. Drama was their last class, so it was late in the day and everyone was ready to get home. About 10 minutes before the final bell rang, Mr. Leichliter, or Leach Eater, as Phil liked to call him, called everyone on stage.

"Now class, I have decided you have a project to do over the break." There were groans and muttered curse words all around, but a clap of Leach Eaters hands silenced them. "I will assign you a partner and you will have to collaborate to write a short, two-person play. You will be graded on teamwork, quality of your play, and whether I enjoy it or not." Alice had to roll her eyes at that, because in her opinion (and surely in the opinion of the rest of the class) Leichliter was a complete dick. A douchebag, a dimwit, and many other derogatory terms starting with the letter "D." Neither Philip nor Alice payed attention to the names being called out, both eager to return to their homes. That was until...

"Philip Shortman will be working with Alice Barker." If either of them had been drinking anything, they would've done a spit take, but the snickering class (who knew that when you put hateful boy and hateful girl together you get a nuclear explosion) would have to settle for a simultaneous-

"WHAT!?" Phil was seething, and Alice's head whipped around so fast that you could almost see her eye, almost.

"You heard me, kiddos." Before either of them could protest, the bell rang like an applause and they were forced to comply. Alice swung her decorated red bag over her shoulder, buttons and pins of all kinds littered across the fabric.

"So, we're stuck together for thanksgiving break." Alice glared at the boy with a green backpack on his shoulders.

"What makes you think that I'd even spend any time with you?"

"A grade that is irreplaceable, you dickhead. Now hold out your hand." Phil raised an eyebrow but held out his hand, and she dropped a piece of paper in it from a foot up, careful to avoid any contact at all.

"What's this?"

"My number. Bye. Call me as soon as you can, maybe if we get this done early we can spend most of the week as far away from each other as possible." And with that, Alice Barker walked away, leaving a seething and strangely pleased Phil Shortman behind.

Phil all but stomped up to his room the second he got home, only to have his mother follow him up.

"Phil? Honey?" Helga Pataki, mother of four and acclaimed writer asked her youngest son from the other side of his slammed door.

"What?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing is wrong, I've simply been put in a foul mood due to the fact that I have an over-the-holiday project with the bane of my existence."

"Who?"

Phil opened his door, poking his head out to look at his mother.

"Alice Barker." He muttered, the name like bile on his tongue.

"You mean that crazy chick who wears the biker boots and is always climbing up the street lamps?" Helga raised an eyebrow, mildly interested in how this event might play out.

"...Yes. I'm being forced against my will to write a play with her over the break by that cur, Leach Eater." Phil grit his teeth, feeling downcast and angry.

"Well...If you've got a project to do, you're going to have to deal with her, even if she is a nutcase." Helga took this opportunity to ruffle her sons hair, making him slightly spaz out and smooth out his hair, giving her a tiny glare.

"...Fine, if I must." He sighed.

"That's my boy," Helga started walking down the stairs. "Oh! By the way, Zacks coming to visit for the week tomorrow!" She called up, causing Phils eyes to widen, before he slammed his forehead against the door frame before slamming the door. Oh, it will be a long, long week, indeed.

Phil stared long and hard at the slip of paper in his hand, before picking up his cell phone (that he really didn't need, but his parents insisted on getting him) and dialing the number. Hmph, he could practically feel the tumor growing as he pressed the infernal little machine up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"It's Phil."

"Oh, hey." Her voice changed to a monotone, dull but slightly melodic tone as it usually did when she was speaking to him (but then again, she barely spoke to anyone else.)

"Since we need to get this damned thing over with, I propose meeting at your place to write a script and get character designs done." his voice was heavy with irritation, his brow scrunched up in frustration at having to even speak with this girl.

"Can't. My mother doesn't let anyone in the house because we have a lot of antiques, so I'll just have to come over to your place, or we could go somewhere public. Wah, no, get away! Go eat a rat or something!" Her voice grew distant as she held the phone away from her face, and in his own room Phil raised an eyebrow. "Ahem, that was the damn cat. So, what do you want to do?"

Phil thought about it for a while. She only lived down the street, and neither could drive into town without the help of family, but Phil didn't want to be seen with this infernal beast in public...But then there was Zack...Phil made himself believe that his mother would make Zack leave them alone if she came to his house, so that was what he decided.

"Okay. I'll be there at noon, tomorrow. Bye."

"Bye."

He hung up the phone, glad that the conversation was finally over. Realization dawned on him at that moment though. Zack was going to show up to a girl already here in Phils company, or a girl was going to show up asking for him while his older brother was here. Phil fell forward onto his bed, realizing that his brother was going to give him hell tomorrow. Oh joy.

Uhm..yeah...There should be about 3-5 chapters in this...since it's like a little short story...yeah...DON'T JUDGE ME.


	2. Krispy Kreme

A/N: I seriously doubt anyone is reading this but you know what? I don't careeeee :D It's fan work.

Life with the Shortmans belongs to SuprSingr (and if she's reading this I'd love some feedback, I'm not sure if I'm getting anyones character right o.e *nervous*) and Hey Arnold belongs to Craig Bartlett, who is great. The only thing I own is Alice Barker.

* * *

After a rather curious dinner where Amanda was spouting something about Joshua, or Ham as he liked to be called, spilling glitter all over the living room floor and Arnold got mashed potatoes flung in his face on accident, Phil was more than happy to just face plant into his pillows.

"Agh...I can only imagine the downward spiral my life will take the second that the uncultured swine I am ashamed to call my older brother walks through that door..." He muttered into his pillow, lighting a candle before slipping into an unconscious state.

"HEY, PHILLIAM FANCY-PAAANTS!" Zachary Shortman burst into the house, being greeted by his entire family at the door except for his beloved little brother. The boy in question, Phil, was standing at the top of the stairs with a sour look on his face.

"Mother! Father! You have opened our home to a beast of distasteful music and idiocy!" He groaned, before being snatched up by his lanky older brother and being forced into an embrace.

"Oh come on Philly, you love your big brother!" Zack had not changed...at all really. He was 20 years old and still had the opened blue overshirt, the shaggy blonde hair, and of course, the unibrow.

"Off, you filthy beast!" Phil struggled in the grip of his brother, before finally slipping out and knocking his head on the stair rail, leaving a nasty bruise on his forehead.

"Woah, Phill, you okay?" Ham asked, thoroughly happy that he was still sane and well.

"Agh, I'm perfectly fine! What time is it?"

"About noon, why?" Zack replied, hands stuffed in his pockets as he was trying to hold back snickers at his little brother rubbing his forehead.

"Oh, he's got someone coming over for a project." Helga grinned, very curious to see how interesting this will be.

"Who?" Ham asked, with an eyebrow raised.

"Me." Alice said while leaning on the door frame, tapping her boots against the floor. "..what? You left the door open."

"Hmph, speak of the devil and it shall appear." Phil crossed his arms and leaned on the rail, glaring.

"Woah, is that streetlamp girl?" Zack whispered to Ham, who shrugged with his hands in his pockets.

"The name's Alice. I'm the unlucky one who's stuck with Phil for the damned project of writing a stupid play." She drawled on, hands in the pockets of her vest.

"Philly cheese-steak! Why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend! And streetlamp girl, nonetheless, what a catch!" Zack grabbed Phil, holding him in a playful headlock while Alice started gagging.

"Don't make me lose my yogurt. You must be his older brother...?" She glanced up at Zack, who dropped his brother.

"Yep, his older, more attractive, and infinitely more talented brother. Zachary Shortman at your service." He cordially bowed. "Well, Ima go get a sandwich, haven't eaten all day! He gives ya any problems, gimme a call, kay? I'll shove him in the closet for a few hours." And with that, he strolled into the kitchen, Ham scuttling off behind him.

"Hello, you must be Alice, right?" Helga offered her hand up to her, now that Zack the little cloud of chaos that followed him around had went into the kitchen. Alice glanced at it, resisting the urge to cringe as they made contact when she shook her hand.

"Uh, yeah. So what, you been talkin' about me, Philly cheese-steak?" She snickered when his face turned into a deadly glare.

"HI I'M AMANDA!" Alice nearly fell on her bum as a little ball of energy in a pink and black dress seemingly came out of nowhere.

"Amanda, is that frosting on your face...?" Helga asked, hesitation in her voice, afraid of the answer.

"Uh, hehe, well, see ya!" She made a quick escape up the stairs.

"Criminy! Well, I gotta go check to see if the icing I bought for Phil's birthday cake is still there. It's probably not, but might as well. Be nice Phil, or I'm bringin' ol' betsy and the five avengers back." She shook her fist at her 15 year old son before running into the kitchen.

"...Well, ya gonna come down from there? I've got pen and paper, that's all we'll need today. I think." she took a tiny bottle of germ-x from her pocket, squirting it in her hands and rubbing it in all the way up to her elbows. Phil couldn't help but laugh, feeling slightly irritated that he hadn't caught on sooner.

"You're a germaphobe! Oh criminy, I can't believe that I didn't catch on sooner, you're a brainless fruitcake who's afraid of dirt!" Alice raised an eyebrow, pulling out at least three bottles of germ-x and pelting him with them.

"Now if you're don't mind shutting your big, fat mouth, then we can get started. And if anyone's a fruitcake, it's /you/." She hissed before sitting on the couch, crossing her legs and waiting for him to get his scrawny ass down to the couch.

He grumbled before sitting down in /his/ chair, glaring at her.

"So, any ideas, Shakespeare? You know I'm essentially useless when it comes to writing plays, or acting."

"Well none of that absolutely pointless romantic crap, understand?" He hissed.

"Of course not. I was thinking something along the lines of...well, dark and gritty and realistic. Maybe something about the fact that pop culture today makes me wanna throw up?" She raised an eyebrow, and Phil folded his hands in front of him in his mysterious "I am contemplating something and looking awesome at the same time" pose.

"Perhaps something along the lines of about how the arts of today have been absolutely nothing but crap that is fed to the uncultured masses..." A lightbulb went off over Alice's head as he said this.

"Art is Dead!" She grinned, hugging herself. Phil raised an eyebrow.

"It's an okay title, I guess." He grumbled, drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair.

The day went by rather uneventfully. They discussed ideas and decided on having the main character be a struggling artist whose work doesn't get sold due to the fact that is shows the ugly side of society, who meets an scene chick who gobbles up what the masses throw at her, they talk, she reforms, no romance, the end. Probably the crappiest play ever written, but they really didn't care.

"Streetlamp, you stayin' for dinner?" Zack poked his head out of the kitchen, one side of his eyebrow raised and a grin on his face.

"Uh, depends." "NO!" Alice and Phil answered, respectively. Zack shot a look at Phil.

"Oh come on, we're having frozen pizza. Besides, it's the least we can do for the poor loon after she's had to spend so many hours with you, Philliam." Zack grinned, causing Alice to stifle a laugh.

"Oh, uhm, I'm allergic to tomatoes, so no pizza for me. Thanks for offering though!" She smiled brightly, a change from her usual "i hate the world don't touch me you idiot" self. Zack nodded, going back into the kitchen.

After a few moments of silence, Alice became uncomfortable under Phil's steely glare.

"What?" She snapped, crossing her arms.

"What're you up to, filthy beast? You're never this nice. Ever. What do you want from me and my family?" He said, glaring at her like she was holding him at gun-point.

"Hmph, well I was raised with manners...I just choose not to waste them on you, Phil. Now, you got all the papers in order? We can start on a script tomorrow. Ugh, dressing like a conformist means I'll have to make my boots look normal. Remind me to torch Leichliters house later."

"I'll add arsonist to the list of things that you are, none of them good." Phil smirked before organizing the papers of nothing but brainstorms.

"Hmph. Well, whatever. Look, I'll see ya tomorrow, kay?" She packed up her things, making sure to tell everyone she was leaving, and happily walked back to her own house, humming the tune to some satirical rap while wondering if she had time to climb a streetlamp. Hah, why would anyone think she was crazy? Well, maybe because she's walking to krispy kreme instead of her house. And Krispy Kreme is about 5 miles away. Ah, the things she'll do for donuts.

* * *

...That was awful, I'm sorry. Basically Alice is a polite germaphobe who enjoys donuts and climbing streetlamps to play the bongos.


	3. Coffee

A/N: I'm so sorry, I'm trying so hard to keep this funny and not stray into my oh so seriousness, but I think we need a glimpse into Alice's thought process, since we've never actually seen her alone. And a special thanks to Conor Dachisen and the anonymous guest who reviewed! I'm glad I have at least some people reading this train wreck *throws confetti*

Disclaimer: I totally don't own anything in here. Zachary and Phil Shortman belong to SuprSingr, Hey Arnold and all of it's characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and I only own Alice and her family.

* * *

She came home with the box of donuts in hand, to a cold dinner and a scolding mother. Oh, joy.

"Where have you been? Your father and I have been worried sick!" Claudia Martin was...not a pleasant woman. She was cynical, condescending, and rude, but had a strong sense of right and wrong, and loved her daughter dearly.

"You know where I was, I was over at the Shortmans working on that play that Leichliter is making us do. Then I walked to Hillwood to get some donuts." Alice shrugged it off as nothing, depositing the donuts on the kitchen counter. She noticed the plate that had been set out for her, the food still in pots on the stove.

Her mother sighed, about to put a hand on her daughter's shoulder before she thought better of it. "Honey you can't keep doing this, I know you think you can take care of yourself but that was dangerous!"

"So? I do it all the time. You can put the food in tupperware, I'm not hungry. Goodnight." Alice shot her mother an apologetic look before attempting to scuttle up the stairs unnoticed.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going young lady?" The grating voice of her "father" sounded from the bottom of the stairs.

"What?" she turned, glaring with her single hazel eye.

"...We were just worried, is all. Remember, you've got to clean the garage out tomorrow."

"But I've got plans, I have to work on my project. I have all week to clean out the garage!" She argued. Her father just shook his head, and let her march up to her room to slam the door. She cranked up the stereo, flopping down on her bed.

Hmph, he's not even my real dad, she thought to herself with a sneer. When Alice was young, her mother had remarried to Carson Martin, and she, being a very little girl, wanted to keep her dad's last name, Barker. Her thoughts traveled back to the boy she had spent the afternoon with, and she crossed her arms.

"Hmph, stupid Phil, I bet the lucky bastard doesn't have to act any different than himself in his own home..." she picked up a rubber ball, bouncing it off the wall. "Gotta keep up this damned act every day, I bet he can say whatever he wants without even thinking about getting sent to the damned hospital." Alice recounted the events that had caused her to be moved here in the first place, pulling her knees up to her chin and closing her eyes.

Alice Barker was a semi-normal, cute as a button 7 year old girl. She had friends, enjoyed art, loved school, and was as popular as a 7 year old could be. But she was not well, she was actually being watched every day by teachers due to her occasional violent outbursts.

She grew up very well liked, and never had a reason to hurt anyone, until she was 11. A boy had thrown sand in her best friends face, making her cry...So Alice had tried to beat him with a chair, before being forcefully removed from school grounds, screaming that she was going to find him and make him cry. It was a mutual agreement that she needed a change of scenery, so the family bolted out of town and settled in the house they live in now, the elder couple happy that their young daughter had not had any outbursts.

"Alice! PHONE!" Her mothers shouting snapped her out of her little walk down memory lane. When she was downstairs, she let out a seething "What?" into the receiver.

"You left your phone here, imbecile." Phil replied, irritation heavy in his voice.

"How did you get my house phone number!?"

"Phone book."

"Well why didn't you just wait till tomorrow to tell me?"

"Because I didn't want you banging on the door at 3 in the morning asking if you left it here, idiot."

"I would never!"

"I wouldn't put it above you, now goodbye."

And with that, he hung up, making Alice slam the phone the phone on the hook. "Ngh...nobody hangs up on Alice L. Barker!"

"Alice are you okay?"

"I'm fine, mom! And goodnight!" She marched up the stairs before preparing for bed, showering and putting in her Dark Side of the Moon album in the stereo, happy to get to sleep.

* * *

Phil was eating his toast at around noon, wondering whether she was going to show up or not. Of course she is, he told himself, the wretched female creatures can't stand to be separated from their phones for that long. The doorbell rang, and Zack sluggishly got up, opening the door and instantly brightening up. Hell, if she gets on Phil's nerves, then she's no enemy of his.

"Hey." Her vest had been replaced by a worn white hoodie, a patch expertly stitched on the shoulder from where it had most likely been torn.

"Hey there, streetlamp! Come in, Philly's eatin' breakfast over there." Alice nodded, shrugging off her hoodie when she stepped into the warmer house.

"Toast? I figured you'd have more class, Phil." She smiled, dropping her bag on the couch and hanging her jacket on a coat rack.

"I don't expect that you had anything better, wench." He glared, hair messy and only in a t-shirt and black jeans.

"I had donuts with a cup of hot tea, Earl grey. I ran over to Krispy Kreme after I left last night." Zack, who was contentedly sipping his coffee, did a spit take...all over her.

"Criminy! You went all the way to downtown Hillwood AT 8 O'CLOCK AT NIGHT, ALONE? Man, you really are crazy." Zack said, before realizing that Alice was dripping in lukewarm coffee, with a sour look on her face. In his embarrassment, he failed to notice Phil's near murderous glare at him. What a waste of good coffee.

"Mother! Father! Your beastly eldest son has spit coffee all over Alice!" Phil shouted in an uncaring voice, and an angry "WHAT" could be heard from the other room. Helga came stomping in, hair in a ponytail and unibrow in need of shaving. She raised an eyebrow, then narrowed her eyes at Zack.

"Zachary Shortman!" Helga shouted, causing the once confident young man to shrink into his seat.

"Uhm, Mrs. Shortman, it's really okay..." Alice muttered. That actually appalled and surprised Phil.

"What are you saying!? You're covered in an over sweetened, over creamed excuse for a once tasteful cup of coffee! Don't tell me you're going to just roll over and accept that!? ...Who are you and what have you done with that headstrong imbecile Alice Barker?" Phil suddenly stood up, hands planted firmly on the table with toast crumbs in the corner of his mouth. Everyone in the room looked rather shocked, before Helga snapped out of it and dragged Zack out of the room by his ear, to administer his punishment away from the eyes of their guest. Oh, he was gonna get it.

Alice just blinked, dripping coffee from her shirt. She snapped out of it, feeling Phils gaze on her.

"Uhm, I can just, you know, run back to my house and take a shower...Wait, crap, I can't." Her mother and father were at work, and she had lost her house key at school. There was always climbing through the window but...That was painful. Last time she did that, she broke a lamp.

"Why not?"

"None of your business. Can I borrow one of your mom's shirts or something? I can dry my skirt off pretty well." she fiddled with the hem of her skirt, embarrassed to be dripping coffee all over the kitchen floor.

"...Whatever. Mother! Can the beast borrow one of your shirts!?"

"Sure honey! Show her to the bathroom so she can clean up while I open a can of whoop-ass on your brother!" A pink and orange mass came flying out of the room Helga was in, and Phil struggled to catch it, then tossed it to his coffee covered guest.

"Bathroom's down the hall, last door on the right. Now hurry up, I have very little time to waste."

"Ah shut up, toast boy." she slinked down the hall, cleaning herself up and slipping on the shirt. It was pink with thin, reddish orange stripes and long sleeves. She felt weird in it, it being her friends mom's and all...Wait, no. Phil is not your friend, you hate him. Well, that's what she told herself.

"Okay so, onto script writing...I just realized I'm absolutely no use in this project at all." A crestfallen look of realization passed over her face as she sat on the couch, laptop in hand.

"What?" Phil raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of hot chocolate.

"I make dresses. I can't write, I'm not the best actress, and even though I can sing and dance this isn't a musical. Man, now I feel like I'm totally screwing ya over." She ran a hand threw her hair, playing with a few split ends.

"Whatever, you came up with the title and you're keeping my horrendous brother away from me for most of the day."

Alice looked down, shrugging. They spent all day writing a fairly good script considering the crappy concept, but they frequently got into arguments about what should be said and done. It had taken about 7 hours just to finish it as a result, leaving both teens exhausted and sick of each other.

"Hey, I'm goin home, kay?" She stated, packing up her stuff in her laptop bag, tucking a red pen behind her ear. "I'll proofread and text you if I find any mistakes."

"Hmph, as if you will. Don't wander off into Hillwood this time, girl." He glared at her from his spot on his chair.

"Why, worried about me?" she grinned, crossing her arms. Phil scoffed, putting on his look of superiority.

"I just don't want to have to deal with the legal issues that'll come with you dying right after you leave my house. Now, begone!" She waved and ran out, returning to her own home. She very well didn't even bother with her parents, as she was in an unusually good mood even after today's tribulations. She plopped her bag on her bed, passing the time with books, video games, movies, and sketching before she fell asleep on the small futon in her room, head at an odd and uncomfortable angle.

Phil lie awake in his room, how long had he known Alice now? 4 years, 5 almost. "Hmph, maybe the devil isn't as brainless as I thought..." He shook his head, striking a match and lighting a candle on his nightstand before discarding the match in the metal trash bin. His room was well decorated, records of famous jazz and classical artists lining the walls, with movie posters and an entire wall of nothing but movies, as well as a large bookshelf. He sighed, curling up in a tiny ball under the covers, well as tiny as he could get considering he wasn't a kid anymore.

"Stupid girls."

* * *

Feel free to hate me, I tried to make it funny, and I honestly could see Zack spitting coffee on her and then Helga being all like "calm but terrifying rage."

I actually just wanted something to get spilled on Alice because she's an insane brat.


	4. I'M SORRY DON'T HURT ME

This is going on hiatus until I finish my Kuroshitsuji fanfic Swansong for the Raven. That is all. *shrug*


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